Luck dictated that her desk would be facing into the small office space and that her back would be towards the window. She didn’t need to look out from it to hear the steady thrum of relentless rain. The skies seemed to match her mood, grey and dismal. It was as though she had become at one with nature; the rain coursed through her veins, the clouds filled her mind and her breathing as laboured as the wind beating upon the windows.

This kind of weather made her reflective though, so it was possible the dismal clouds could have a silver lining after all. What was the meaning of disappointment? Was it that she had just faced another rejection? Or that everything she touched surely died? That was one for the likes of Hegel and Heidegger, and possibly something they could delve into and discuss for several months on end.

She didn’t have that long to waste – she was moving on. In some weird way, it was good that she faced this kind of disappointment; it split the good from the bad and building her resilience to such let downs.


The phone pulled her out of her reverie. Another person was politely asking how she was doing, before launching into a tirade of dates and times for their desired trip. How was she?

She turned around and looked out of the window. It was as though she has imagined the rain earlier - there were no traces of water on her window and the sun had dried the pavement outside. The sun looked inviting, tempting her outside for a breather.

“Alhamdulillah, I’m well. How are you doing?”